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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994072">a hundred different ways</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyPeasyPanic/pseuds/EasyPeasyPanic'>EasyPeasyPanic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>all of my founders era fics [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Character Death, Dead Uchiha Madara, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Regrets, Requited Love, Uchiha Izuna Lives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:08:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyPeasyPanic/pseuds/EasyPeasyPanic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He could have come up with a hundred stories of how any battle could've ended. However, in all of the years that Izuna let his mind wander off into his imagination, he never thought for a second that a battle would end with his brother being struck down. </p><p>__</p><p>Madara dies. Izuna marries Hashirama for his clan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Izuna, Senju Tobirama &amp; Uchiha Izuna, Uchiha Izuna &amp; Uchiha Madara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>all of my founders era fics [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a hundred different ways</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i've decided hashirama and izuna are in love, no i do not take any criticism</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>i.</em> </b>
</p><p>A hundred ways. </p><p>Every single battle that Izuna has ever been could have ended a hundred different ways, ranging from defeat and death to more outrageous imagination. Sometimes, even as an adult, he would hope maybe one day the Gods would come down from the sky, clawing through the clouds to smite Izuna's enemies. Or a band of dancing tigers, like in the stories his brother told him. He could have come up with a hundred stories of how any battle could've ended. Maybe even thousands. </p><p>However, in all of the years that Izuna let his mind wander off into his imagination, he never thought for a second that a battle would end with his brother being struck down. It happens so suddenly, so quickly, that Izuna almost misses it. A misstep, a falter. </p><p>He sees a blow from Tobirama coming with his Sharingan in a moment of sudden clarity and caution. The smudge of ink on a clean kunai, and he <em> knows. </em> Izuna avoids it, with mere <em> centimeters </em> between him and certain death, but something had gone wrong in Madara's battle. He'd seen it too-- seen the blow coming and took his attention off of Hashirama, and then suddenly there was blood everywhere. All over his chest, all over the Senju's hands. <em> Everywhere.  </em></p><p>Izuna remembers <em> screaming </em>. He remembers pushing that Senju bastard away, remembers trying to fit his much larger older brother over his shoulders, screeching for a retreat across a silent battlefield. The crying was loud, but it was not his own. The Senju was sobbing. </p><p>Izuna didn't stay to listen. He stumbles his way towards the compound as Madara rattles out shaky breathes, blood staining white teeth and pale lips. His skin was a lovely blue, almost blending into his dark hair, and Izuna could've screamed again. Only several hundred feet from the compound, he drops his brother down to assess the damage, sending his cousins ahead to bring their healers <em> here </em> . Izuna watches with terrifying clarity (red gaze, his Sharingan, the fear of his brother's death keeping it activated) as Madara's chest heaved and jerked to take in air. Izuna panics, blood smearing across his shaking fingers as they traced the wound. <em> No, no, please.  </em></p><p>"An...accident." Madara croaks out, his dark eyes wide with pain and <em> something </em> else that his brother couldn't recognize. " <em> Izuna--" </em> </p><p>It takes Izuna a moment to gather the chakra into his trembling fingertips, and the familiar, but faint glow of her chakra engulfed his hands. Izuna had been a fifth son once, given more liberties and less attention than the others, and he'd been drilled in basic healing. Nobody had ever imagined he would one day be a second-in-line for leadership, and he needed a use somewhere, didn't he? </p><p>It's been years, and he's out of practice. He had never been much of a healer anyway, to the frustration of his Great Aunt and cousin that were often charged with his education and training. More often than not, he burned and killed whatever he touched. Izuna pressed his hand gently against his leaking wound, though he struggled to stem the bleeding. Uchiha's fiery chakra was tricky to tame and mold into something <em> softer </em> and healing rather than destructively hot. It wasn't working. It wasn't--</p><p>"Please, Aniki." Izuna chokes, his throat closing at the thought of what he's about to say. "Please, please, don't die. I need you, I still need you. <em> Please </em>." Don't leave him here alone, without guidance or love or companionship. </p><p>Madara's eyes aren't wide anymore. Glossy and dark, blinking slowly. His mouth opens and closes sluggishly, fighting for breath. His hand reaches up slowly and shakily to touch Izuna's cheek. So much blood on his cold fingers, smearing it across Izuna's face, though he leans into the touch anyway. </p><p>"Please." Izuna says softly. </p><p>Madara gasps out a shaky, rattling breath. "Izu…" It sounds like, <em> maybe </em>. </p><p>Izuna tries harder. He struggles to keep his chakra pliable and gentle enough for healing. It was always harder for him to control it because his chakra was worse than most, like flames against his palms and inside his chest. Always ready to <em> burst </em>. </p><p>He manages with his childhood medical knowledge, stemming the bleeding for now and holding in Madara's chakra as it fades in and out. Tears dance at the edge of his eyes, and for a moment, Izuna fools himself into thinking everything will be okay. And then Madara's hand drops from his face, a heavy <em> thump </em>on the cold ground. </p><p>"Madara?" Izuna says softly. "<em> Madara. </em> " Louder, more urgent. He can't breath. His own lungs have failed him, because his brother isn't moving or breathing or even bleeding anymore. "Madara, <em> please </em> . Aniki, please, don't do this." He pleads, shaking his brother's shoulders like he did as a child to wake him up after practice. " <em> Please </em>." He lets out a shaky, dry sob, heaving with pain. </p><p>He collapses on top of his brother, pulling him closer, letting his body rest across his lap. Arms around his older brother's unmoving shoulders. Izuna sobs again, shaking, unable to contain himself. Distantly, he hears the sound of shuffling. The healers arriving, most-likely. Useless now, <em> useless useless useless </em>. </p><p>A hundred ways that battle could have gone, but Izuna had never considered his brother dying as one of them. </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>The ceasefire arrives. Izuna burns it and uses the flame to start the funeral. </p><p>The second one comes a few hours after the final ashes of his brother's funeral pyre have been dutifully collected in an urn to be interred into the shrine that overlooks the Naka River. He throws it in the river beside it. </p><p>The third one comes a week after that. And Izuna-- well he knows what his clan thinks of him. But for all of his tempers, his vanity and pride and <em> hatred </em> simmering deep inside his chest, Izuna was raised by his brother to be diplomatic when possible. To always calm himself and redirect his emotions, to try and be better than his worser aspects. Madara had been a hypocrite in that regard, but he had <em> tried </em> . He knows the whole clan is in a state of disarray as they wait for his orders to begin, either to lay down their weapons or to begin crafting more of them. And Izuna wants the latter more than he wants air for his lungs or meals inside his aching stomach, because those Senju killed his <em> brother </em>. Slaughtered him in a moment of weakness.</p><p>(Izuna's moment of weakness.)</p><p>He knows that there's gossip of war. More battles, more famine within his clan and emptier coffers, and <em> worse and worse and worse </em> under his leadership. They expect fire and ash and blood, they expect him to become a monster of vengeance and rage. Izuna wants that, he wants to avenge his brother, but he isn't as naïve as most believe him to be. He knows his clan can't afford such things, can't afford more loss when they're struggling just to provide meals at the moment. </p><p>Hikaku is kneeling beside him, "Izuna-sama." He says steadily, not acknowledging how the younger man flinched at the honorific that should've belonged solely to his brother. Izuna was the fifth son, and his Aniki was the first, and he was never meant to lead their clan. "What should we do about the rationing?"</p><p>Izuna closes his eyes. His head spins, overwhelmed by the new position. By the paperwork and the grief, the rationing and the crop burnings, of being looked upon as a leader rather than soldier. He was meant for less than this, always meant to be his brother's shadow, to help guide Madara but never to lead or overstep.</p><p>"Stop rationing. We'll begin taking our meals as a group. Have...Yumi and--" Izuna isn't even sure who's still alive, or who's surrendered to the Senju as a prisoner at the promise of a hot meal. "Natsu? Since we'll do communal meals from now on, we should have them be in charge of preparing the meals and rationing them as a whole. Two meals a day, portioned out by rank. Less portions for the civilians, and more for the shinobi." </p><p>The third ceasefire agreement is lying across the desk that once belonged to his brother. It's crumpled and thrown, and anger eats away at Izuna's stomach like he's swallowed venom. </p><p>"Our shinobi won't accept more food than their civilian spouses or children. How can they watch their families starve while they eat?" Hikaku replies back, frowning.</p><p>"Just do as I say." Izuna snaps, and immediately regrets it. Hikaku did nothing to deserve it, but his cousin bows and leaves before his stupid mouth will function enough for an apology. Well, that's another bridge burned, so what more does he have to lose? Izuna glances at the ceasefire again, and he wants so badly to give in to the rumors that are circulating. To become the cruel, angry, hateful, <em> revenge-fueled </em>warmonger they believe he will turn into to avenge his brother. But Izuna loves his clan as much as he loved Madara, and he isn't a fool.</p><p>It would be different, if he were the one that had died. Because Madara would have the means to fight on and not stoop the Senju's level. Izuna knows not to trust them, but he can't fight them all. </p><p>He's well aware that he cannot take Senju Hashirama in a fight. He almost died by his younger brother's hand, so Izuna is certain the older Senju could easily take his life with little strain on his part. Without him, the clan will fall apart into subjugation to the Senju, or into a civil war as distant cousins begin to all dive for the open role as clan head. It's a massacre of his family either way, so Izuna struggles to bite his own tongue and <em> calm his temper </em>. Revenge, he realizes, won't happen anytime soon. </p><p>Survival is all that's left for him. </p><p>Izuna hesitantly picks up the ceasefire agreement again, smoothing it out. He hates himself every second that he picks up his brush to write out a reply to the murderer that killed his brother. </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p>His head hurts. His vision blurs some. </p><p>The shouting of the elders does little to alleviate it. Izuna slumps forward, palms digging into his eyes, trying to contain the pain that erupts there. </p><p>"A disgrace!" Elder Kiyomi shouts, furious. Slams a hand down against the table, chakra flaring. "How dare they demand this much of us for peace, at <em> our expense </em>?"</p><p>Elder Hisa scoffs, "Because they have the upper hand, you old bitch. Don't be foolish. We are on our knees, and they are wielding the sword like an executioner." </p><p>A bark of sarcastic laughter. More angry arguing. Izuna's headache worsens, as does the ache for his brother. Madara would have silenced them all by now, and made mint tea for his little brother's headache. Perhaps even let him lay down in his futon with him until it faded. </p><p>"We are bowing before them, at our weakest, and we rely on signed papers for a ceasefire? No, I demand we refuse until they send us something more stable. If Madara were still here, this truce would be enough, because we would have the strength to fight back if they betrayed us." Old-Man-What's-His-Name prattles on, going over the rights of the Uchiha and the false goodwill of the Senju. More things that Izuna has already considered when he agreed to the damn ceasefire negotiations. </p><p>"More stable <em> how </em>?" Izuna asks, already regretting his decision to say anything. He looks up, meeting several pairs of dark eyes that look at him in a range from pity to contempt to humiliation at his expense. </p><p>"Demand a proper Senju bride. From their main house, of course. We need an alliance of blood, at the very least the bastards will care about the well-being of their women."</p><p>Izuna opens his mouth. </p><p>Elder Kiyomi interjects, "The Senju have no brides that are closely related to Senju Hashirama, so they'll send us a low ranked woman. And how is that anymore stable? We need an alliance of <em> equal </em> status. If they cannot provide a bride of noble blood, what women do we have to marry to the Senju?"</p><p>"I have no sisters." Izuna adds unhelpfully. He wonders if he could burn himself to death with the blackened fires of Amaterasu, or if he should simply take a kunai to the skull. </p><p>"A cousin would work, if from our main lineage. Uchiha Naori is a fine woman, related to us through Tajima-sama's grandparents. She has claim to leadership, technically." </p><p>Izuna slams his hand down, shaking his head. "She's fourteen." He spits out, furious. Naori was a sweet girl, and obedient to a fault. If he ordered her to bow to the Senju as a peace offering, as a wife, she would obey. But she wasn't a proper woman yet. She still had fat cheeks and bony limbs and awkward curves, and Izuna couldn't imagine sending her off to marry the Senju that murdered his brother. </p><p>"She's a woman."</p><p>"Absolutely <em> not </em>. She's a child. I'm done hearing about Naori. Shut up about her." Izuna snaps, crossing his arms in a poor imitation of his temperamental brother. It doesn't exactly quell the marriage conversation, but it does urge them away from his fourteen year old cousin. "We'll figure out another way of creating a stable alliance."</p><p>"And what other way is there?" Elder Kiyomi cries out, leaping to her feet. She stops her foot like a petulant child. "You will be the end for us, boy."</p><p>"Oh shut up, you old bitch. Leave the boy alone, he's--"</p><p>"--back to the matter at hand, you idiots!"</p><p>"We must think of another way!"</p><p>Which Izuna can't think of right now. He doesn't know a better way of securing a truce that will last and no end in betrayal without the bonds of marriage. But the thought enrages him, the idea of Senju Hashirama taking an Uchiha wife. Izuna imagines one of his pale cousins with their dark eyes, bowing to a man that doesn't deserve them, an obedient and proper wife. Imagined Hashirama being tended to and fed well with his sun-kissed skin and black-eyed children (all alive and well) playing with toys in the main room of his home. Things that Madara would never be able to have now; a wife and children and happiness. A life outside of war. Izuna doesn't want that for the Senju bastard, he wants him <em> miserable </em>and angry and regretful his entire life. </p><p>Izuna doesn't want Senju Hashirama to have a wonderful, well-mannered wife. He doesn't want him to have a house full of little mixed clan children with the ability to grow plants with a single hand sign and the Sharingan. He doesn't want Hashirama to have a happy home or children. Or even to marry someone that he could one days love. </p><p>Something comes to him, more painful and confusing than his current migraine. Izuna looks over to his favorite cousin, and motions at him to come near. </p><p>"Send a falcon to the Senju with new terms of truce and alliance." He instructs quietly, glancing at the squabbling elders in exhausted exasperation. "Tell them if they want peace so badly, they will bind themselves to us in marriage."</p><p>Hikaku's eyebrows raised, "So we are giving them Naori?"</p><p>"No. Never." Izuna replies, miserable. "I'm offering myself to Senju Hashirama."</p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>His lips taste of the sake they both sipped. Warm and soft, almost. And then saying something through the chaste kiss. <em> I’m sorry </em>, Hashirama says silently, against his lips, although Izuna wonders what he's apologizing for. Their marriage or his brother's unjust death.</p><p>It doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done. </p><p>All of the allies and their own families cheer for them when they part their kiss. It's a big affair, being married in the middle of this newly forming village that's just tents and some wooden buildings right now. Hashirama's eyes, dark brown and so <em> bright </em> , plead with him for forgiveness. Hashirama offers him another cup of sake that night, though he has little need of it. He has prepared herself for <em> months </em>, for the moment when his life would ultimately turn sour and he'd be stripped of his whatever pride he had left. Izuna takes the drink and chugs it down. </p><p>Izuna glances up, studying his new brother-in-law. Tobirama keeps his face neutral, but his eyes are...his former rival's eyes are hollow and aged. Something has been stolen from him. And from Izuna. From their entire generation and their ancestor's generation and everyone else. (He imagines it’s innocence. Other times he think it's just the lost brothers.) Something more has been taken <em> tonight </em>. At this very moment. </p><p>"I'm sorry." Hashirama repeats, keeping his gaze down. "I know it wasn't really your choice, and I'm really sorry."</p><p>"Don't assume anything about me, Senju." Izuna interrupts, dismissing his false apologies. "Don't you dare--" He cuts himself off. Turns away before he can't control the anger that threatens to consume him. "Just don't."</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>"<em> Senju </em>." Izuna warns. </p><p>"I know this isn't ideal. We both didn't end up how we wished. But I want you to know that this isn't going to be a bad marriage. I'm not-- nobody deserves to be unhappy. Especially not you. We have to stay in the same house, but we can have separate rooms. We don't…"</p><p>Oh so <em> now </em>Senju Hashirama has found his decency. He's able, somehow, to craft himself into somebody kind and human, when he couldn't do it that day on the battlefield. When he killed Madara--</p><p>(<em> An accident </em>, Madara had said. But Izuna shoves that memory away.)</p><p>"Of course we'll share the same room." Izuna says steadily, anger simmering deep down inside. "We're married, aren't we?"</p><p>
  <em> And we'll be close enough that I can make sure you're unhappy and unloved for the rest of your life.  </em>
</p><p>Hashirama blinks at him in resigned exhaustion. "Of course."</p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>They don't touch each other that night. Izuna was glad of that, because one of his main fears had been the bedding ceremony, although it seemed unnecessary as no children would be born between them. </p><p>Still, he had worried over Hashirama's more muscled figure and his strength. Worried about being held down and taken as a show of strength and dominance. But he could see from the older man's motions that such things would not have been the case. He didn't touch Izuna, didn't grab at him or make demands. Instead, Hashirama takes off his wedding hakama with ease, and undid his dark brown braids until his hair fell long across his back. Hashirama laid across the futon, lowered his eyes and left his body pliant for Izuna to mold, but he wasn't hard. He wasn't aching for it. He wasn't even willing to meet the Uchiha's gaze. It was obvious he was waiting for Izuna to do what he wished, to do exactly what Izuna imagined having done to himself. Rough and mean and dominating.</p><p>Izuna doesn't touch him that night. As much as he hates this man, as furious as he is at his brother's loss, as much as he <em> wants to hurt him </em>, Izuna isn't going to rape him, marriage or not. He isn't that kind of man. </p><p>They sleep in the same futon, curled away from each other. </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p>Despite it all, Izuna's more miserable than Hashirama in their marriage. </p><p>They have a system, the two of them, that works for them except it goes too well. Izuna makes the meals in the home, although he hates rising early to do so. He makes sure to undercook the rice, to char the meat far too black, to ruin the tea until it was too watery or too bitter to drink. And Hashirama? That bastard doesn't <em> care </em>. He eats every terrible bite, offering small smiles throughout the meal. He asks for seconds sometimes. </p><p>"Thank you for cooking." Hashirama says, every single time. "You didn't have to."</p><p>Izuna would smile back, "My pleasure." And then make the meal worse the next time. Izuna has his duties to the clan he has to deal with each day, but he returns much earlier than the newly elected Hokage. When he returns home, Izuna doesn't do any of the housework. He doesn't clean, he doesn't do laundry. He only cooks, and even then, Hashirama does the dishes. </p><p>Instead, Izuna works on reading some of the scrolls he found in Madara's room. Sometimes he goes over clan reports he's brought home. He draws some, but he can't find any inspiration for the random doodles. Before this, he would make little drawings for Madara, just silly things to make him smile. Even as a child, he would try desperately to do anything for Madara to smile. (He found a lot of his drawings hidden in Madara's room after his death. Folded and stored neatly in a small box kept in his brother's closet.) Hashirama doesn't seem to mind Izuna's laziness. </p><p>He doesn't mind that he does their laundry, or that he does their cleaning. He doesn't mind to do the dishes after Izuna's horrible meals. He tidies up the house. And then, late in the evening, Hashirama goes out to tend his garden. Bonsai inside the house, small and well-tended to, and an array of bright wild flowers outside. Izuna wants to hate it because it's his husband's happiest place, but it's too pretty to hate.</p><p>Hashirama isn't miserable. He isn't upset that he has to eat horrible meals, or that he has to come home from running a village to an untidy house and no clean laundry so he has to do it himself. Hashirama is still ridiculously pleasant. He greets Izuna every morning. Says goodnight as he takes his place on the futon where they stay as far apart as possible. He doesn't seem to mind that Izuna refuses to kiss or touch him. Hashirama fills the silence of the house with soft chattering, about his day or the village or the clans. He doesn't invite Tobirama inside the house when he knows Izuna will be present, or without asking permission first. </p><p>Hashirama is being a decent husband. And it's severely <em> pissing </em>Izuna off. </p><p>How <em> dare </em> he be so content with this new life? How could this be so easy for Hashirama? Hadn't he cared for Madara at all, even enough to feel an ounce of regret? All of those moments in Izuna's life that made him doubt his brother's love for him being less than his love for Hashirama…</p><p>Well, he doesn't understand how his husband can be so content without his brother. And he feels even worse for bowing down and letting this village happen without fighting back. Logically, he knows and understands why he did it. The Uchiha were nearly starved, more husks of themselves than the once proud and noble clan. At least now, the children were safe, and everyone was well fed. Izuna had protected his clan, but it left a sick feeling inside his chest to know he hadn't avenged his own older brother. </p><p>He was his brother's entire world. He knew if be had died rather this his big brother, Madara would have torn the world apart for justice. He would have done <em> anything </em>to avenge Izuna's death. But he was strong enough to do such things, and Izuna could not take both Senju in a fight. He wasn't his brother's equal, not truly. Izuna was hot-headed, sure, but he understood duty well enough. He knew when to tame his fiery temper, and he had done well for his clan. </p><p>It didn't make him feel any better, though. </p><p>Izuna groans, fighting back the urge <em> to scream </em>and tear this whole house. To set the wood stove aflame and let the fire eat away the empty house that didn't feel anything like home. Instead, he takes the meal off the flame and tries to fight back the doubts digging away at him. His head is starting to ache again, so he tears his hair tie off, letting his hair go wild across his back. Maybe the lack of pressure on his scalp would help. </p><p>He hears the <em> whoosh </em> of the door sliding open. Loud and pronounced, because one doesn't creep silently into the home of a shinobi, and old paranoia does not fade. It's Hashirama, he already knows. </p><p>"I'm home." He calls out. </p><p>Izuna does not welcome him. He never does. </p><p>Hashirama lingers in the doorway of the dining room. Oddly enough, he remains quiet. Dark eyes glance Izuna in a flash of <em> something </em>like grief across his face. The light of the lanterns glow dimly and he can see the troubled expression on his husband's face. </p><p>“What's wrong?" Izuna demands, feeling childish. He won't be gawked at like something exotic. "What are you staring at?"</p><p>But Hashirama doesn't move a single inch. He doesn't start chatting about his day. He doesn't inhale the smoky smell of burned meat and declare it a <em> wonderful scent </em> , <em> thank you Izuna </em>. He doesn't pick up a kunai and start carving his wood into little shapes to hand out to children. </p><p>His complexion was ashy. His mouth opened and closed, as if he were gasping for air. (Like Madara, Izuna's mind provides bitterly.) His eyes are so helplessly <em> open </em> and hurt, and Hashirama takes a step backwards. As if he were face to face with some monster, rather than his husband of six months. </p><p>"What?" Izuna demands again. He slams the empty pan down, having finished serving their meal into bowls. "What in Indra's name are you <em> staring </em>at?"</p><p>Hashirama stammers, "Your hair--" He says, motioning with his fingers. </p><p>"What?" Izuna rolls his eyes, pressing his fingers down into his wild hair. It wasn't easy to manage after a long day of work, especially since he hasn't bathed yet and just let it out of the hair tie. Of all the damn things to be worked up about, his <em> messy hair </em> ? Izuna could feel anger bubbling up, and he prepared to fight. "I let it out of its tie for <em> once </em> , and you lose your mind? I'll brush it whenever I damn well please, <em> husband </em>."</p><p>"No." Hashirama swallows hard. He rubs a hand across his face, almost like he were swiping at tears. "No, not that. You look like--" He shakes his head, still furiously rubbing at his face. "I never realized how much you look like Madara with your hair down."</p><p>And that breaks apart every single part of Izuna that was still <em> whole </em> . He doesn't realize he's screamed until he was in Hashirama's face, glaring <em> up </em>at the tall bastard. </p><p>"Shut up!" He <em> hissed </em>. "Don't ever say that again! Don't you ever say his name!"</p><p>Hashirama's face pinches off. His grief turns into exhaustion, and it just enrages Izuna <em> more </em> because how dare he say <em> his </em>name-- to say his name and compare them and...and…</p><p>Izuna slams the door shut behind him as he stalks out of the house. The door frame rattles, and everything goes <em> red </em> around him, and he's heaving for breath. His fists are clenched at his side, but he's managed to control himself enough to walk out instead of <em> punching </em>his husband in the fucking face. How could he say-- it wasn't--</p><p>Izuna isn't sure when he started crying, but there are tears burning down his cheeks. Hot and angry tears, because he wasn't even sure where he's going now. Barefoot and <em> furious </em> and without any reason to keep going. Hikaku could lead, couldn't he? If Izuna declared him heir, he'd be a wonderful leader. Or Naori, maybe. Anybody but him. He missed his brother so much it ached. It felt like he was missing half of himself, or had all four limbs cut off. Izuna couldn't breathe anymore, couldn't function. He wanted his brother. He wanted Hashirama to suffer, he wanted--</p><p>"I've brought your sandals." Tobirama says from behind him. Izuna whirls around, angry and ready for a fight, but his adrenaline fades along with his Sharingan. He's too tired to do this again, another repetitive fight that will lead to nothing more than pain and grief.  He's exhausted.</p><p>"Why?" He asks, snatching them away from the pale man. He slides them onto his feet, watching the Senju cautiously. </p><p>Tobirama spares him a disinterested once over, "I was in the house when Anija said <em> that </em>. I thought it would be best if I come rather than him."</p><p>Izuna doesn't thank him for it. </p><p>"We aren't friends." Izuna reminds him, in case he's forgotten. </p><p>"No." Tobirama agrees. He offers a small smile, almost comforting to the dark thoughts that are weighing him down. "But we are brothers now, by law."</p><p>Izuna doesn't know what he should say to that. He doesn't know anything other than the fact that he <em> had </em>a brother. At one time, he'd even had four. And now he's alone, with a husband he wants to skin alive, and a pale brother-in-law that he didn't much care for. </p><p>Tobirama continues on, taking his place by Izuna's side as the Uchiha wanders down the worn dirt path that leads <em> somewhere </em>. "Anija doesn't often think before he speaks. Although, your reaction wasn't exactly what I expected. It was far more dramatic. Though I suppose I shouldn't expect much from you?"</p><p>Izuna offers a withering stare, "How would you feel about having your looks compared to your dead brother?"</p><p>Tobirama raised an eyebrow. He motioned to himself (all pale skin and bright red eyes) with a vague gesture that made Izuna wilt back immediately. </p><p>"I've never had that issue, fortunately." Tobirama replies, obviously amused. He stops suddenly, his eyebrows furrowing. "I am sure this isn't easy. I understand the pain of losing a brother."</p><p>Izuna looks away. He refuses to acknowledge any of what's happening. Crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. </p><p>"And I imagine it must be worse to be married to the man that killed your brother, accident or not." </p><p>"Stop."</p><p>"So I'm not sure what advice to offer you."</p><p>Well, Izuna wasn't exactly expecting that responce. He snorts. Loudly. </p><p>"Are you kidding me? A whole monologue, and you have absolutely no advice to give me? Then what was the point of all this?" </p><p>"I'm your brother now. I take family quite seriously." Tobirama says smoothly. "Any issues that are happening within your marriage are your own. Handle them with Anija. I'm here to offer you an unopened bottle of plum wine at my home, if you wish to drink. I'd prefer it be where I can keep track of you."</p><p>And that's when Izuna laughs. He kneels down, huffing and choking on his own saliva as the laughter spills out of his chest like water from a broken glass. He's nearly hysterical, because this whole situation was so <em> fucked up </em>. His own brother by law was Senju Tobirama, who nearly killed him in their last true fight, and his husband murdered his brother, and now he's being offered to go drink with his former rival. </p><p>By fucking Indra, that's all Izuna wants to do. He'll drink the whole damn bottle, and hopefully the Senju has more. </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Hashirama apologies later, when he stumbles back home in the morning. Izuna is hungover, with that same headache from before, but sober enough to tie his hair back before he enters. </p><p>Although, Hashirama looks no better than he does. He's soaked in sweat, glassy-eyed and red-rimmed. He reeks of liquor and vomit, and he's stumbling over his words. His apology is genuine, if cut short. He doesn't meet Izuna's eyes. </p><p>Neither of them talk about it again. </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>iii. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>A year and a couple months of awkward small talk turned to full conversation, warm futons, and a narrow space between them passes by quickly. There had been so much to do within his own clan, and then other clans to negotiate with, and trying to finish laying the groundwork for the village's expansion. </p><p>They don't speak of Madara. It's a forbidden topic of conversation, although they never say it aloud. It's the principle of the matter, and he refuses to revoke the unspoken rule. Things ease up, sometimes. It becomes easier to bear, almost. Izuna has given up trying to ruin the Senju's life, because it doesn't seem to matter what he does. Hashirama is painfully optimistic and unencumbered by any hardships his husband provides. So he stops burning meals. He does his share of work, cleaning the floor boards and scrubbing the walls. He does the laundry, and then he lets Hashirama fold it after it's been dried by the warm sun. </p><p>He entertains Izuna. Hashirama is a wonderful, exaggerated story teller, and he'll talk all day and night if given the chance, and Izuna regrets that he's eager to listen. Sometimes his stories drag on and on with detail, but Hashirama tells them so energetically that it thrills Izuna all the same. His stories aren't exactly as interesting as Madara's had been when he spoke of princesses in the stars and dancing kittens. But Hashirama's are funnier and true, and Izuna laughs when he tells them. </p><p>(He tries not to listen too often, though. Sometimes Izuna thinks laughter hurts, because he <em> knows </em> that his brother would have laughed at these stories too, and he shouldn't enjoy himself with his brother's killer.)</p><p>Hashirama kisses him in the mornings, on his cheek or knuckles, and once again at night. Sometimes, when Hashirama will buy lunch and bring him some to the Uchiha compound to share while he works. As much as it irritates him some days, he slowly became fond of Hashirama's grinning, his eccentric nature, his silly depression spells, and his infectious happiness. He enjoys sharing a bed with him at night, because Hashirama always warm, even with the distance between them, but he knows that the careful, delicate <em> almost happiness </em>between them will not last. </p><p>Izuna is far too tired of being angry and depressed and unhappy. He's resigned now. He's tired of fighting, of only bringing negativity into his life. Madara wouldn't have...it wouldn't have made him happy. And all Izuna has ever wanted was to please his brother, and therefore he humors this little <em> playing family </em>game they've created for themselves. </p><p>One of them will, eventually, ruin it. It's really only a matter of time. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>His husband looks <em> foolish </em>and awful in the mornings, Izuna notes with a snort and a roll of his eyes. His long hair sticking every which way, mouth open as he snored softly, a bit of drool collecting at the corner of his mouth and seeping into the fabric of the pillow. Sprawled out on his back, a leg kicking at Izuna's hips with his body as hot as a furnace despite the autumn cold beginning to settle in.</p><p>It never failed to make Izuna feel a mixture of humor and embarrasement. There was something inherently <em> intimate </em> about being about to see this man, his husband, so relaxed and utterly catastrophic in bed because it made Hashirama seem so much more human than when he was in battle. Or even when he was wearing that ridiculous hat and those tacky robes, standing atop the mountain with his own face etched into it. <em> Embarrassing.  </em></p><p><em> ( </em>And annoying. Izuna wanted his face carved into a giant cliff too, but he'll die before he ever admits it.)</p><p>"The God of Shinobi my ass." Izuna mutters. </p><p>Against his better judgement, he presses his thumb against his temple to mess with him before fleeing to the kitchen to cook breakfast. It really was a luxurious house, built by Hashirama himself as a refuge from being Hokage. It was close to the Uchiha clan's compound and close to the Hokage tower, but functioned separately from being the Hokage's home, instead just being <em> theirs </em> . It almost felt wrong, to consider it Izuna's home too. He lives here, eats here, all of his things are here. Hashirama is kind enough and knows what <em> not </em>to say now, and there's no reason for him to be so upset about anything here. It's a large, beautiful house. It has all the modern appeals and even a small pump for water so they didn't have to fetch it herself from the river, but still it felt odd to say it was home. </p><p>Home, to Izuna, had always been about the people <em> inside the </em> house, no matter what kind of living conditions they had. Father, Mother, their brothers. Hikaku, too. And then everyone died, so it was the three of them. And then Madara died. And Hikaku remained in the compound, and Izuna was <em> here </em> . The rest of the clan was important to him too, but they hadn't been his family in the same way. Izuna frowns, his fingers pausing in front of the fire he was beginning to set under the hanging pot. <em> Rice </em> , he tells himself. <em> Boil the rice. We'll need it for lunch and dinner too </em> . <em> Might overcook it today to be spiteful. I'm feeling spiteful. </em> </p><p>But his limbs aren't moving. He's crouched in front of the fire, <em> thinking </em> about how utterly alone he is in the world. </p><p>"Izuna?"</p><p>Hashirama's voice brings him back, and he blinks up at the Senju. He stands there with a sleepy expression, brushing the exhaustion away from his eyes. </p><p>"I'm making breakfast." Izuna announces, even if it's obvious. He wiggles his toes on the cold, smooth wood floor and pushes himself up after finishing the fire. "Good morning."</p><p>Hashirama's eyes are concerned, but he grins all the same. "Good morning! Why do you get up so early? I'm still sleepy! It's too early to get up." </p><p>"Maybe for you, but Mada-- well, we got up early in my house as a child." Izuna frowns deeper, glancing at the food in the kitchen. "It's going to have to be rice and tsukemono. I'm not doing anything better than that."</p><p>"Is there pickled mushrooms in the tsukemono?" Hashirama asks hopefully, while Izuna starts to brew a pot of tea for himself, and he nods absent-mindedly. </p><p>"You're the best spouse I could have ever asked for--" Hashirama cuts himself off, his eyes widening. Izuna doesn't let it bother him too much. He takes a deep breath, keeping his composure. </p><p>"I'm the only spouse you've ever had, how would you know?" Izuna challenges, whirling around for a long moment. His arms uncross, and he goes back to serving their meal, but he can't fight back the small smile gracing his lips. </p><p>Hashirama thinks it over for a long moment. "Alright," He yields, hands up innocently. "I'm sure there are better spouse out there. I wouldn't know." </p><p>Izuna slammed the bowls down, the nice ceramic ones that were a wedding gift from one of the clans that attended. "Take it back, you tree."</p><p>"But you said--"</p><p>"Take it BACK!"</p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>"It's not my problem." Izuna says, flipping through the pages of the book he was reading. He scowls down at the pages, his vision blurring out significantly. Fucking eyes! </p><p>Tobirama doesn't seem to give a damn about his feelings on the matter. In fact, he makes a point of shoving Izuna's legs off his desk, sending him sprawling down bottom first. </p><p>"What the <em> hell </em>?" Izuna sputtered. </p><p>"Is it your problem now?" Tobirama replies steadily, raising an eyebrow. "It's <em> your </em>clan's feud."</p><p>Izuna scoffs, raising himself back up. "My <em> clan </em>? Your cousin was the one that started this whole fight. Why should my clan apologize?" He challenged, meeting bright red eyes dead on. Tobirama frowns, shifting his arms to put down the stacks of scrolls he had carried in from the departments several floors down. More paperwork, Izuna imagines. </p><p>Tobirama was articulate with every word, as if the Uchiha were too dull to understand the language. "My cousin was correct in what she said, and I won't hear another word about it. Tell your clansmen to apologize to mine."</p><p>Izuna bristles. </p><p>"Tell <em> yours </em>to apologize to mine." He demanded. "I'll break the peace over this. I will, don't test my temper, Tobirama. I'll light you on fire."</p><p>"Then do so, because I will not make a mockery of my clan. We will not apologize for speaking the truth."</p><p>Izuna huffs, "I don't care how many Senju want to say that mochi is better than dango, I won't <em> hear </em>it. It isn't true!" He argued, but Tobirama's face twisted in disgust. </p><p>"It isn't that we don't <em> like </em>dango. It's simply inferior."</p><p>"It is <em> not </em>."</p><p>"And <em> who </em> are you to say that?"</p><p>"Your elder."</p><p>"By <em> nine </em> days." Tobirama's face pinches off in that frustrated way it does when he realizes he can't argue against the structure of something. How does one argue over age? It isn't some that can be changed, and the Senju <em> knew </em>that. Izuna lifted his chin, feeling far too victorious for such a small win. "Just tell the Uchiha to apologize."</p><p>"We won't." Izuna leans over, meeting the Senju's eyes. He very pointedly grabbed the largest stack of papers laying across Tobirama's desk. And then he spreads his hand across them, sending them flying out of order. The Senju let out a frustrated cry, diving at Izuna, but the Uchiha flung himself backwards out of the way. </p><p>"War." Tobirama threatened, as he rearranged the papers, putting them back into order. "I won't show mercy." </p><p>Izuna raises his hand to his forehead, mockingly holding out his thumb and raising his forefinger. "And I expected none. And you'd lose anyway. One fancy seal trick <em> a year and a half ago </em> didn't even kill me. I doubt you'll ever get the chance again." But he lets a smile spread across his lips, leaning forward to mess the Senju's paperwork again. </p><p>"You're underestimating me." Tobirama's lips curve into a thin smile. </p><p>"Probably." </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>"I brought you a gift. I almost forgot about it." Hashirama says to him, halfway through their nightly routine. Which wasn't much of a routine. More like it was time for Hashirama to whisper to his stupid little bonsai trees that never seemed to be perky and healthy when Izuna tried to take care of them. And Izuna would be eating whatever left overs were left from dinner earlier, somehow his body still managing to be hungry so soon after a whole meal. </p><p>"A gift?" Izuna repeats. He sets down his plate after shoving the last of the food into his mouth. </p><p>Hashirama nods eagerly. He stands up after whispering something to his little bonsai. He sets down the little knife he used to tend to the tree, and disappears down the hallway towards the front door. Izuna tries to rake his mind for a reason for whatever gift. Birthday? No, that would be in Feburary. Anniversary? Absolutely not, they don't celebrate that. Nothing else seems to come to mind. </p><p>Hashirama's voice drifts in from down the hall. "Tobirama and I went out for lunch today. We stayed in the shopping district for a little while." Some fumbling noises followed. "And I saw this! It reminded me of you." There's a package in his hand as he comes towards Izuna. He gently places the gift into the Uchiha's hands. Izuna flusters immediately. </p><p>"You bought me paints?"</p><p>"I know you like drawing." Hashirama says earnestly. He rubs the back of his head awkwardly. "And these are supposed to be really nice paints. I talked to the seller for half an hour. Tobirama wanted to <em> murder </em>me, even more than when I tried to go to a gambling house!" He laughs, as if humor might smooth out the situation. "If you don't like them, you don't have to use them."</p><p>And then, for just a second, Izuna wonders if this is what his older brother must have loved so dearly about his former friend. If Hashirama had always been so dumbly kind and thoughtful. If he always seemed to brighten any dour moods, if he had always been so infectiously endearing. Izuna's stomach twists in something that isn't quite hatred anymore, but was more warm inside of him. Affection, <em> almost </em>. </p><p>"Thank you." Izuna chooses to say, smiling. </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>He buys a new pot for Hashirama's favorite succulent the next day and paints flower petals on it, to return the kindness. His husband doesn't stop smiling for <em> days </em>over it. </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>iiii. </em> </b>
</p><p>Izuna's laying on the table, face pressed up against the wood. He's tired from a late night of doing paperwork, and then waking up early to make breakfast for Hashirama. Sure, the Senju knows <em> how </em>to cook, but the routine is something he doesn't want to break. It was the one he did with Madara, always dragging his lazy bones out of bed to make sure his idiot brother who couldn't boil rice properly had a decent meal to eat. </p><p>Izuna sighs, trying to convince himself to <em> get up </em>. But he's just so damn tired, and his eyes don't want to open. He hears the door open, and he barely looks up. </p><p>"I'm home." </p><p>"Welcome back." Izuna yawns, the table so comfortable against his face. Maybe it was because it was crafted by the Mokuton? He'd need to have Hashirama create more furniture if all of his wood was so soft and pliable. </p><p>"Izuna, get up." Madara huffed. "Are you dreaming again?"</p><p>Izuna lazily sat his head onto his arms, glancing up at his inconsiderate, cruel brother. "I'm tired. Leave me alone." He grumbles, trying to wave Madara away. "You won't believe the dream I had anyway. You died."</p><p>Madara rolls his eyes, "Oh you wish I would die so you could use all of our clan's funds on those stupid stray cats you try to adopt all the time. Now get up. You're the one that told me to come around noon so we could practice together." He scolds him, yanking at Izuna's hair. "I'll throw you into the damn Naka river again, get up."</p><p>"Go bother Hashirama." </p><p>"He's your husband. You bother him. <em> After </em> our spar. Up, Izuna. Get up." </p><p>Izuna groans, sinking his head down and closing his eyes. "I'm up, Aniki. I'm up. I'm up--" He raises his head, blinking stupidly. Still mumbling something under his breath that came out more like soft grunts and slurs. Everthing's blurry from his sudden awakening, and he tries to clear his vision. Where did Madara go? </p><p>It hits him suddenly that he wasn't in the dining room anymore, lying against a soft table. He was in bed, and the moon was shining through the window onto the futon he was sharing with Hashirama. His head had been on the Senju's chest, and Madara wasn't here anymore. He hadn't ever been here. Because he was dead. He was ashes resting in a bigger pile of ashes, mixed in with several hundred relatives, and Izuna had watched him die. He'd burned his body. Madara wasn't here. And it <em> hurt </em>. </p><p>Grief clawed at his chest. Izuna choked out a soft cry, trying not to remember. Madara was gone, burned. Dead, <em> slaughtered. </em>Bled out in Izuna's arms, and the memory was seared into his mind by his Sharingan. A constant reminder of his loss, of his pain. Of every moment he had been with his brother until the very last moment when it mattered. Just a dream, somehow worse than a nightmare. Pain was different when it was repetitive, but to think Madara was alive even for a moment was agony. </p><p>He feels movement next to him. "Izuna?" Hashirama says sleepily, and the Uchiha wants to fight back a scream. <em> You killed him! You killed my older brother, you bastard! </em> But he can't bring himself to say that because a part of him has grown to love the Senju, and Uchiha walk the line between love and hate so erratically. Hashirama sits up, moving to grab at Izuna's shoulder, but the Uchiha stumbles out of the bed. Sheets wrap around his legs, entrapping him until he falls forward. </p><p>"Don't touch me." Izuna warns, as if he could actually do anything to hurt the older man. He could put up a hell of a fight, but he would lose. He would ultimately <em> lose </em>. Not because Hashirama was stronger, but because Izuna would be hesitate to fight back against him. </p><p>"Did you have a nightmare?" Hashirama asks innocently, with such loving and caring and kind eyes. How could he have done it? Kind, stupid, peaceful Hashirama killed his brother, and Izuna doesn't know why he can't understand that. "It's alright. Here, come here--"</p><p>"It wasn't a nightmare." Izuna answers shakily. "It was a really good dream. A great dream, but you stole it from me."</p><p>"Stole it from you?" </p><p>"You <em> killed </em>my brother." Izuna accuses, and the world around him shifts to red. Red, red, red, just like right before his brother died. "You killed Madara, and I-- I don't understand why you did it. You don't even regret what you did that day, do you?"</p><p>Hashirama flinched back, as if he'd been struck by a blow to his face. </p><p>Because Izuna doesn't understand it either. Of all the things he could've expected from Hashirama, who clung desperately to Madara since childhood and to some far off notion of peace. Who had almost stolen his brother away from him as a child for dreams of place where they could all have been happy. And now that place as come true, and Madara isn't here. It's wrong, and their relationship is wrong. And worse, Izuna might harbour feelings for the man that killed Madara, that he married just to make sure nobody ever loved him. </p><p>Hashirama's face is downcast. </p><p>And for once, his sadness and grief wasn't exaggerated like an actor on stage. It was real and quiet and <em> visible </em>in his eyes. "That was the worst day of my life.” His voice broke against his will, and his fingers rubbed circles into his other hand. “And I'm sorry.” </p><p>“You're sorry." Izuna repeats brokenly. "Then why did you do it?" </p><p>"He was supposed to dodge! We always played this game of battle, but I could never put my all into it. He was my friend once, my closest friend. I could never hurt him, and I think maybe he knew that." Hashirama's eyes are wet. He's openly weeping, and Izuna wants nothing more than to comfort him. He doesn't. "Because he never really hurt me either. I wanted a safe place for my brother, just as he did. And then he became a part of my dream. This village was supposed to be for both of us."</p><p>Hashirama face darkens. He lets a hand run down his cheek, wiping away his tears slowly. </p><p>"He was my gift from the divine. My closest friend. If I had seen he was distracted, I would have stopped. I didn't-- he always kept an eye on you, but never took his attention off our fights. I did the same for Tobirama. I didn't think he would have-- I didn't mean to do what I did. Everything went by so quickly. And then I killed my closest friend."</p><p>And that sounds so much like his brother. Always watching out for him, as if Izuna were a young child. It didn't help his grief, to know Madara died because his attention was on him. But it eased something inside of him, to know it wasn't done out of hatred or something just as dark. It made more sense. It made it easier to be able to be sitting here with Hashirama.</p><p>(<em> An accident, Madara had gasped out. Some of his final words. </em>)</p><p>"And then I thought-- I wanted to die. More than anything, I thought you would have fought me, and I was prepared to let you kill me. I deserved it. I killed my best friend, but then you accepted the ceasefire. I was selfish, because I was happy to have my peace. Everything began to form into all of my dreams, except Madara wasn't there…" Hashirama pauses, sniffling. His eyes were so <em> lost </em>, as if he were reliving every moment of grief he felt again, just like Izuna did every day. "But you were. And I thought I could look after you, for Madara. To try and make up for what I did. I thought maybe I could make you happy, however I could."</p><p>Izuna doesn't know what to say. It stings, to know these things. To think he was just penance for a grieving man.</p><p>"And then I was selfish again." Hashirama laughs, his whole body shaking. It's unsettling, to see him like this. It hurts Izuna somehow, to see the person he's started to love like that. Broken down and <em> hurt </em>and crying. He hesitantly pushes aside any lingering anger, and crawls closer to the man. "I was happy with you. I forgot about why I agreed to this marriage in the first place. I was happy instead of you, and in love, and it was selfish of me. To use you like that, after what I did."</p><p>"Senju."</p><p>"I'm sorry I made us drag this on for so long." Hashirama mutters, not listening. Just shaking his head, trying not to meet his gaze. "I was selfish. But I'll have the marriage annulled. We don't need it anymore. We're secure, the peace is secure. It's fine now. You can hate me as much as you want. I-- I deserve it.."</p><p>Izuna lets out a frustrated groan, "Why do you always assume things, Hashirama? I always thought your brother was the annoying one, but I was wrong." He mutters, shoving him softly. He leans closer, wiping away the tears with his sleeve. "By Indra, you're making this whole thing so hard."</p><p>Not that he was any better, to be honest. He'd harboured the same doubts, the same self hatred for loving Hashirama while knowing his brother was gone. But he knew his brother, and he felt stupid for all of his doubts. Ignorant even. An accident, his brother had said before his death. Madara had loved Hashirama. He had loved Izuna, so would he truly have been that upset for them to decide to be happy without him? Izuna was an idiot, he realized. An absolute idiot. </p><p>"Izuna--"</p><p>"We're going to stay married because I want to stay married. I've been horrible, I know that. And I'm sorry. But I...might love you too. So we'll stay married, alright?" Izuna rushes out, because he's not the person for these emotions. For these sort of situations. </p><p>"You love me?" Hashirama lets a pathetic wet laugh, shaking his head. He looks hesitant, unsure, unwilling. So Izuna dives forward, smashing his lips against his husband's soft ones, clinging to his shirt. It's a rough, sloppy kiss, but it serves its purpose because he starts <em> smiling </em>when they part. Hashirama looks at him in awe, surprised. </p><p>"Madara would have wanted us to be happy." Izuna says quietly. "So we should be happy. Let's be happy, okay? We deserve happy after everything we've lost."</p><p>Hashirama keeps staring at him, wide-eyed. "Okay." He replies, without hesitating. </p><p>
  <b> <em>___</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>And then, one lazy morning, lying in bed with Hashirama's arms around him, Izuna wonders about everything. There are a hundred different ways he could have imagined his life turning out. </p><p>He could have died at Tobirama's hand numerous times, even that same day his brother was struck down. He could have watched the Gods come down from the sky, clawing through the clouds to smite Izuna. Or joined a band of dancing tigers, like in the stories his brother told him. He could have come up with a hundred stories of how his life would have turned out. Maybe even thousands. </p><p>However, in all of the years that Izuna let his mind wander off into his imagination, he never thought for a second he would end up happily married to Senju Hashirama. </p><p>Still, that doesn't mean it's necessarily a bad thing. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this isn't even close to my best work but i was bored and needed a break from my other wip</p></blockquote></div></div>
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